I inhale deeply and realize he’s right. The air is kind of stale. The apartment smells like a weird mix of ammonia and old socks.
“Why don’t you open the windows?” Steve suggests to Dinah. “I’ll crank up the heat and light a fire.”
Dinah is still staring at the fireplace. Then she makes a distressed sound and runs down the hall. A door opens and then slams shut. I stare after her. Is that guilt? Crap, how do I know what guilt looks like? If I killed someone, I’d run to my bedroom, too, right?
Steve sighs. “Ella, can you get the windows?”
Glad for something to do that takes my attention away from the crime scene, I nod and quickly move to the windows. Another shiver overtakes me when I pass the fireplace. God, it’s creepy here. I have a feeling I won’t be getting a wink of sleep tonight.
Steve calls in a delivery order, and it arrives about fifteen minutes later, filling the apartment with a spicy aroma that might have smelled good if my stomach wasn’t churning from anxiety. Dinah doesn’t come out of the bedroom, refusing to answer Steve’s summons for dinner.
“We need to talk about Dinah,” Steve says over a plate of steaming noodles. “You’re probably wondering why I haven’t divorced her yet.”
“It’s none of my business.” I push a green pepper around my plate, watching it make tracks through the soy sauce. I haven’t given the marriage much thought. I’m too obsessed with Reed’s impending imprisonment.
“I’m arranging things,” he admits. “And everything needs to be in order before I start the paperwork.”
“It’s really none of my business,” I repeat more forcefully. I don’t care what Steve does with Dinah.
“Are you going to be okay living here? You look…”
“Creeped out?” I supply.
He smiles slightly. “Yes, that’s as good of a word as any.”
“I’m sure I’ll get over it,” I lie.
“Maybe we’ll find something else. You and me.”
I’ll be gone to college in a year, but I reply with, “Sure,” because I don’t want to see Steve’s disappointment. Right now, I can’t handle anyone’s emotions but my own.
“I was thinking that you could take a bridge year and not go to college after you’re done with school. Or maybe we could hire a tutor and go abroad.”
“What?” I say in shock.
“Yes,” he says, sounding increasingly enthusiastic. “I enjoy traveling, and since Dinah and I will be divorced, it’d be great if you and I went on a few trips together.”
I stare at him in disbelief.
He flushes slightly. “Well, think about it, at least.”
I clamp my lips tight around my fork so I don’t say something hurtful. Or worse, stab him with my fork for such a ridiculous idea. I’m not leaving the state of North Carolina until Reed can.
After dinner, I excuse myself. Steve shows me to the guest room down the hall from the dining area. It’s nice enough—all cream and golds. The design and setup isn’t much different than the hotel room we left. I have my own bathroom, which is nice.
The only downside is that a dead woman once slept in this bed.
Pushing aside the thought, I unpack my school uniforms, a few T-shirts, and jeans. My shoes and jacket go in the closet. Next to the bed, behind the nightstand, I find an outlet for my phone charger. I plug in my phone and then lie down on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
Tomorrow I’ll look for Gideon’s stuff. I doubt it’s in this room, though. Dinah wouldn’t let the blackmail evidence far from her sight.
But…maybe if Brooke was sleeping on it, it would be just as safe?
I hop off the bed and look under the frame. The hardwood floor is clean, and none of the boards seem to be loose, which would be a telltale sign that something might be hidden underneath them.
How about between the mattress? It takes a few pushes to get the mattress on its side, but there’s nothing underneath it but the box spring. I let it drop down with a thump.
I do a quick search of the nightstand, where I find a remote, four cough lozenges, a bottle of lotion, and a spare set of batteries. The dresser has extra blankets in the bottom, extra pillows in the middle drawer, and nothing in the top one.
The closet is empty. Dinah or the cops must’ve had Brooke’s clothes taken away.
I run a hand along the wall and stop to inspect the bland abstract painting hanging over a thin console table across from the bed. There’s no secret safe behind the painting. Frustrated, I collapse on the bed. There’s nothing in this room but normal items. If no one had told me that Brooke slept in here, I would’ve never known about it.
With nothing to search for, my thoughts drift back to Reed. The large room suddenly feels oppressive, as if a heavy fog settled into the space.